


My Demon, My Angel

by atlasthend



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Gift Fic, Gift Work, I Love You, I Tried, Illegal Activities, Please Like This Chelsea, Rain Sex, Sex on a Car, Teacher-Student Relationship, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:33:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3139499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlasthend/pseuds/atlasthend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He figured if there was a God, He'd created her just to make him hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Demon, My Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [0pposing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/0pposing/gifts).



> Man, I hope she likes this.

He watched her with blue eyes full of a hungry need. He lusted for her, wanted nothing more than to repeat what they'd already done. 

It made him hard, to imagine what she'd tasted like, that warm, wet, slick heat that he'd licked his way up into until his mouth was flush with the lips of her sex and his tongue was busily worming its way inside of her. She'd arched up on his desk, moaning low in her throat, because while school had let out, there was still that slim chance that they'd be caught like this- with her a moaning mess spread out on his desk with his head between her legs, breaking her apart from the inside, so agonizingly gentle. 

Thinking about getting caught then had somehow turned him on even more. 

But he couldn't think about that now.

He was... He was supposed to be teaching. 

And so he simmered silently in his loathing of her as she sat at her desk, innocent face drawn into a frown as she worked at her problems for once. She struggled in his class, never did her homework. 

But for some reason, he felt this connection to her, something that went past all that skin and muscle and bone, right down to the very core of her. 

Now he'd never put much stock in Heaven or any of that religious bullshit, but he figured if there was a God, He'd created her just to make him hurt. 

As the bell rang and she got up and began following her friends out the door, his demon glanced back at him, eyes heated and filled with a hunger that could rival his own. And he ached to touch and cursed himself for these idle hands of his that seemed to have a mind of their own.

It was raining heavily, so hard you could hear the water pelting against the roof of the school, by the time his last class ended that day. And it was still raining that night when he'd finally finished grading papers at the school. He liked to do that there as opposed to doing it at his own house since it gave him time to himself and away from his collapsing marriage. But that wasn't the point.

The point was that he hadn't been expecting to find her there outside that night, staring out from under the moderately dry cover over the doors, the wind of the storm making a few strands of her dark hair dance while he watched, mesmerized.

She noticed him out of the corner of her eye and her shoulders gave a jerk.

He'd startled her, he realized, and he was still being much too quiet and even what he was sure she'd describe as "creepy."

"Oh hey, Chelsea. What are you still doing here this late?"

"My mom never came to pick me up so I didn't really have a ride home. And I'm definitely not walking home until this weather clears up." Her voice quivered when she spoke and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes when he noticed it was only because she was cold. 

_Serves her right for not wearing a jacket._

But even as he thought the words, he was slipping his arms out of his coat and draping it over her shoulders, "Well you're definitely not walking home alone in the middle of the night either."

"Gee. Thanks, Dad," she laughed. "What else am I supposed to do?"

He ignored her jibe in favor of pulling her in close to his side, grinning, "When I say run, run."

"Wh-What?!"

" _Run!_ "

And just like that, he was running into the rain with her at his side, the two of them getting drenched the second they'd left the safety of the dry overlay above the school's double doors. 

He laughed out loud when they finally reached his car and then started fumbling in his pants pockets for his keys. It was only then that he realized he'd put them in his jacket.

"Chelsea," he shouted above the storm howling around them, "my keys are in the right coat pocket!"

She dropped them when she was getting them out, bent to pick them up, and had to squint to see in all the rain, but came back up with them triumphant. 

And then he had her up against the car, kissing her fiercely.

They were both soaking wet from the cold rain, but in that moment her body warmed and she parted her lips for him, letting his tongue in to plunder her mouth as his hands found her hips and hoisted her up so that her legs were wrapped around his waist. 

After a few minutes of the kiss, he pulled back to catch his breath, but his mouth didn't leave her, choosing instead to move to her neck where he pressed soft, tentative kisses to the sensitive skin that lay above her jugular vein.

She moaned brokenly in response, her fingers clenching in the wet fabric of the back of his shirt and he could almost feel the blood traveling southward, down to his cock. 

" _Chelsea, Chelsea_ ," he whispered into her slick skin and she only dropped her head back, her eyes closed and her mouth open in a silent plea.

Staring at her, the beautiful picture she made with her loose, wet lips and this expression of pure ecstasy on her face though he'd barely even touched her, he was overcome with longing.

"Chelsea, can I-"

" _Please_ ," came her reply, and he marvelled at her voice, at how ragged and torn apart she sounded.

He carried her to the front of his car, laying her out on the hood before he was unbuckling his belt and unzipping the fly of his khakis, dully aware of her lifting her hips to shimmy out of her jeans and panties, which fell to the ground at his feet with a faint _splat._

And then he was gripping her hips, bending over her and shielding her from the rain as he lined himself up at her entrance.

She stared up at him with eyes that he believed to be the clearest he'd ever seen, her face unreadable. 

And in that moment, staring down at her with the rain pelting his back, the storm raging around them, the wind howling and screaming, she was the _only_ thing he saw. 

He knew what he was doing was wrong, knew that if they were caught that there'd be a whole slew of serious consequences, knew that his wife would leave him if she ever found out.

But in that moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Because his angel was reaching for him and lacing her fingers in his short hair so she could tug his face down to slot their mouths together in an agonizingly gentle kiss. 

And _God help him_ , he was kissing back.

He felt her legs tighten at his back, felt her heels urging him on and he raised a hand to cup the side of her face, his thumb stroking over her cheek as he rose up on his toes and drew back... And then he thrust into her, moaning into her mouth at the sensation, with her wrapped around him, taking everything he gave and giving back so much more. 

He made sure to move slowly at first, aware that it was certainly painful for her, but he couldn't hold back for long and was soon thrusting into her at his own pace, alternating between fast, hard snaps of his hips and long, slow, unforgiving thrusts into her when she arched up and craned her neck to capture his lips with her own.

She came when they were kissing and their tongues were warring for dominance in her mouth, when he'd reached between them to let his index circle the taught ring of flesh sucking him into her, when he'd moaned his appreciation of that tight, warm, wet place that engulfed him against her lips that had suddenly slammed shut with the force of her orgasm. 

She milked his climax out of him and he spilled inside her, squeezing his eyes shut as he wrapped his arms around her and drew her in close to his chest, his warm weight on top of her oddly comforting. She didn't feel caged in or trapped or anything like that with him all around her and inside her and well... _everywhere._

She felt... _free_. She felt so free that it was like she was flying.

And later that night after he'd driven her home to her empty house and she sat at the foot of her bed, wrapped in a towel and fresh from the shower, she knew tonight's events were well worth the cold she could already feel coming on.


End file.
